The Best Game You Can Name
by ConeycatJr
Summary: The Avengers are called to repel a Jotun invasion. At the Bell Centre in Montreal. What could they be doing there, and is Loki involved?  Hint: of course he is!


_**Notes:** Based on a prompt at norsekink about the Jotun coming to Midgard. If you were a JOtun, what would YOU do?_

_**Warnings for:** Pure crack, real hockey players being used fictitiously._

**The Best Game You Can Name **

There was no question of Iron Man flying into battle, not in a howling wind like this. Tony was grateful for the suit, which was heated and impervious to the sleet and hail that slashed at the faces of the other Avengers.

"I have not been this cold since Jotunheim!" Thor shouted, his voice whirled away by the icy blast.

"What kind of a godforsaken place are we going to?" Clint bitched, desperate with cold.

Tony pulled up the coordinates again. "According to this, we head north-east on Boulevard Rene-Levesque, which is where we are now, take a right on Rue de la Montagne, and look for Avenue des Canadiens-de-Montréal. The Bell Centre is right there."

"I don't understand why we're even out in this," Bruce grumbled through chattering teeth, too cold and miserable to even get angry. "If ever there was a night not fit for man nor beast, this is it."

"True," Steve agreed. "But the Jotun? This is their idea of ideal weather for a picnic."

"Luckily, there's not another soul out for miles," Tony remarked, looking around at the empty streets.

"Of course not. They're not crazy. Anyone with an ounce of sense is at home drinking hot chocolate," Natasha grumbled.

When they entered the Bell Centre, however, the Avengers realized they had miscalculated: the only reason nobody was out braving winter's icy blast was because they were already at the hockey game.

"Oh, this isn't good," Steve murmured, looking around. Tony had to agree: this many civilians, in an enclosed space, with Jotun warriors? It was sure to end in disaster.

And, apparently, the hockey fans hadn't gotten the memo about the reported Jotun invaders, because they were packed into the seats, a red-white-and-blue multitude, their cheering already filling the arena but rising to deafening volume as a voice over the PA system shouted something about _"Nos__Canadiens!"_ anda gate opened in the boards. Skaters in brilliant crimson jerseys, trimmed in blue and red like the inverse of Captain America's uniform, came charging out of the dressing area, gliding onto the ice.

And there, in the middle of the pack, looming over the tiny and surprisingly helpless-looking hockey players, was the threat SHIELD had sent them to neutralize: a full-sized Jotun warrior. He lumbered out of the darkness like something from a nightmare, the humans around him elbow-high to him, somehow part of the pack and somehow not yet noticed. Tony had no idea how he could possibly have gotten into the corridor leading to the home team's dressing room, or why he hadn't yet started crushing and mangling the hockey players all around him, but thank God for small mercies.

The noise from the stands, unbelievably, grew in volume, a boisterous roar that had to represent terror at the sudden threat, but somehow lacked the higher registers that usually signaled the onset of panic in a mob of humans. Apparently, the crowded-together civilians had not yet processed what they were seeing, nor had herd instinct had yet taken over, to cause a blind stampede bound to injure or kill many of them.

The time to act was now, before that happened. Tony dropped his facemask and rose into the air.

The Jotun turned his head in time to see Tony bearing down on him, and swiped at him with what looked like a long, skinny club hooked at the end into an angle. Tony dodged, making a mental note to yell at Thor later for not mentioning this Jotun weapon that extended the warrior's reach so drastically. He hung in midair, about three feet above the surface at centre ice, making himself a target to distract the monster while the other Avengers closed in.

And was suddenly struck violently amidships by what felt like a staff held horizontally, colliding with him at great speed. If it hadn't been for the suit he'd have been winded at the very least, and even as it was the force of the collision knocked him sideways. Tony turned in the air to see one of the crimson-sweatered skaters bearing down on him, stick held crossways in both hands, a furious expression behind his facemask.

Oh, great. Tony was _really_ going to yell at Thor later, for not telling him the Jotun were adept at mind control.

He didn't have a choice, not with the hypnotized hockey player so bent on aggression: he raised a hand and fired one of his repulsors. The blast caught the skater squarely in the little "H" nestled within the larger "C" on his sweater, and he was knocked backwards, landing hard on the ice and sliding into the disorganized scrum of the other players.

The baying roar that came from the stands was nearly drowned out by the bellow let out by the Jotun. The great blue creature lumbered into the milling group, reached down and grabbed the dazed player by the "76" on the back of his sweater, and pulled him to his feet. The player shook his head dizzily and apparently said something to the monster, who made some guttural reply and turned back to face Tony.

Who was, belatedly, beginning to realize that, perhaps, the situation before him was not quite precisely what he had been led to expect.

Tony being the genius of the group, he reached conclusions faster than some of the others, particularly Thor, who also had that whole ancestral fight-the-Jotun reflex happening and had therefore raised Mjolnir and was about to utter some Asgardian battle cry- when he was violently cross-checked and actually knocked staggering by a particularly heavily-armoured figure who Tony figured had to be the goalie.

Thor was big, but in fact when he wasn't standing in a group near the Jotun it was possible to tell the goaltender was big, too, probably just as tall as Thor in their respective sock feet, but with several inches of added height due to his skates, and rendered nearly as cartoonishly broad as Thor by the sheer volume of protective equipment concealed by his sweater.

He wouldn't have a chance in a fight with the sort-of God Of Thunder, but it certainly made him _look_ like he did. Particularly when he yanked off his helmet and his expression of unadulterated fury could be seen by one and all.

He was shouting, too, his utterances largely unprintable and partly (perhaps demonstrating his acclimating to the city where he played) in badly-accented French, but the coherent bits seemed to refer to what he intended to do to Thor for…

Attacking his defenceman?

_Oh, shit._

The rest of the red-shirted hockey players, and in fact a whole lot of the white-shirted members of the opposing team, had begun to gather around the Jotun, like brightly-coloured musk oxen protecting an outlandishly large calf from the wolves. Thor was surprised out of his aggression, while the rest of the Avengers just looked confused- except for Steve, who seemed to also have realized something was amiss.

Tony let himself down on the ice surface, spikes emerging from his boots to help him walk on the ice, and started toward his puzzled comrades.

And then a voice spoke at his elbow:

"You know, you are doing nearly irreparable harm to the playing surface. Are you _trying_ to be declared Public Enemy Number One for the city of Montreal?"

Tony turned, with a sense of foreboding, and was not one bit surprised to find himself looking into the cheerfully supercilious face of Thor's evil little brother.

"Loki. I should have known you'd be mixed up in this," Tony said tiredly.

Loki raised his eyebrows, the picture of offended innocence. "_I?_ What have _I_ done? Here I am, blamelessly attending a hockey game for sheer personal enjoyment, and you make unfounded accusations of me?"

No accusation about Loki was ever truly unfounded. However, now that Tony looked at him, he realized Loki certainly wasn't dressed for combat: he was wearing an extremely well-cut dark suit under an expensive-looking topcoat, a black-and-grey check scarf slung casually about his neck. He seemed to be having no trouble standing on the ice- which now that Tony noticed, really was looking a little slushy and scarred, what with the flight jets and the spikes- but on closer inspection that was because he was floating about a centimeter above the ice surface.

Not dressed for combat, but always for mischief, Tony reflected.

"Don't try to get cute with me, Loki. You're behind this somehow. How did you get that Jotun in here?"

"I?" Loki repeated, still with the eyebrows. "I did nothing. The Canadiens signed Helblindi as a free agent, as soon as they were made aware of his remarkable skills on the ice. Also, I understand he is formidable on defence."

Tony and Loki both turned to look at the monster, hemmed in by his tiny yet determined defenders, and held at bay by the Avengers. Or perhaps it was the other way around.

"Yeah," Tony said after a moment. "I can see that he would be." And then he registered the important bit of what Loki had just said: "Wait, the Canadiens were 'made aware' of his remarkable skills? Now, who would have done that?"

Loki shrugged. "An athlete of his caliber requires an agent to look after his interests."

"You're a sports agent?" Tony yelped. "Just when I thought you couldn't get any more evil. What kind of a percentage are you soaking him for? Thirty?"

"Such matters are beneath my attention," Loki replied loftily.

"Worse than that, eh? Fifty?" Tony demanded, just as something flew past his head. He instinctively ducked, and then looked down at the gooshy pinkish mass on the ice. "Did someone just throw an _octopus_ at me?" he almost screeched.

"Indeed. How curious. I was given to understand that generally only happens in Detroit," Loki mused.

"Someone threw an _octopus_ at me," Tony repeated.

"Oh, stop complaining," Loki said impatiently. "It is not as if it was a giant kraken- which, believe you me, can be arranged. And what did you expect, arriving here garbed in the colours of the hated Flames of Calgary, and then attacking such a well-liked and respected member of the team?"

_"Well-liked?"_ Tony said stupidly.

"Indeed. Helblindi is known for his support to various local charities for children, especially those which enable them to learn to skate. On outdoor rinks. At any time of the year." Loki was walking toward the massed confusion of Avengers and hockey players and the Jotun- actually, Tony amended, considering the circumstances, it was simply _toward__ the __Avengers __and __the __hockey__ players._ Loki went on, "He is a determined blocker of shots, apparently pleasant company in the dressing room, and never misses a practice. The only person connected to the game who appears to have any difficulty with him is a sportscaster by the name of Don Cherry, and that appears to be mostly because Mr. Cherry is under the impression Helblindi is some sort of Swede."

Tony decided not to ask about that last bit, partly because things were already weird enough and partly because they were nearly back with the others. He did, however, have the presence of mind to grab Loki by the arm and demand,

"Okay, so if he's a nice guy who's not bothering anyone, why did SHIELD get worked up about a possible Jotun invasion?"

Loki shrugged. "I have noticed that much of the sports reporting in your country is woefully deficient in hockey news. Presumably, one of your agents intercepted a scouting report of some sort. There may have been references to a 'Jotun invasion' of the National Hockey League- since, after all, any team who has faced Helblindi will wish to sign a Jotun or two of their own- and your SHIELD representative was simply not intelligent enough to correctly interpret it."

Tony looked at Loki, whose face now radiated smug innocence, and nodded. "Of course. That's obviously what happened."

Loki smiled at him, and then raised his voice to hail Thor: "Brother! How pleasant to see you! I did not know you were a hockey fan!"

The previously-stunned player, number 76, looked at Loki and then Thor in disbelief. "This guy's your brother?" It was quite clear he knew his team mate's agent, which had implications that made Tony's blood run cold. Suppose instead of an army, Loki decided to assemble a client roster?

"He is indeed, and means no harm. He is not bright," Loki offered in a stagey aside, "but is generally well-disposed." He looked around with an expression of good humour that was even more untrustworthy than his usual expression of…. untrustworthiness… and announced, "We have surely delayed the start of the game for long enough. Perhaps, Helblindi, you could lend your assistance in repairing the ice?"

"Surely," the monster… the defenceman growled, and lumbered toward the patch of ice damaged by the jets and spikes of Iron Man. Number 76 skated along beside him, as though to protect him from sneak-attack. Helblindi glanced down at his tiny companion and rumbled, "You need not serve as my guard, Subban."

"Someone has to," number 76 retorted.

"Indeed? The way you keep me out of trouble with the league office, and away from the interest of Brendan Shanahan?" Helblindi replied.

"Hey, if it wasn't for me, you'd be in trouble more often," 76 argued.

"PK, if it was not for your incessant chirping, I would never be in any trouble at all," Helblindi growled. No, wait. That was a chuckle. "Now, do not instigate anything for five minutes while I fix this ice. Is it a bargain?"

"Sure," said number 76.

Thor looked at Loki. "I begin to feel considerable fellow-feeling for this Helblindi."

Loki cocked an eyebrow. "I have no idea what you are talking about. Now, let us remove ourselves from the playing surface."

"Good idea," said Tony, when suddenly the raucous background noises ceased entirely as the stands fell silent. The Avengers turned in confusion to see what had distracted the crowd.

The gate leading from the dressing area to the ice surface had opened once again, and a figure was walking toward them. Like Loki, he was impeccably dressed in suit and topcoat. He was tall, despite a slight stoop of advanced age, taller than Loki, and possibly Thor. His snow-white hair shone in the overhead light as he approached.

Tony glanced down, to see the stranger was, like Loki, wearing regular street shoes. However, unlike Loki, he was obviously not using magic to enable him to walk with firm steps across the ice surface. It was apparent the ice simply obeyed his command.

From behind him, Tony could hear the puzzled voice of Clint, asking,

"Does Montreal have a king?"

Thor began to step forward, and Loki reached out to grab his arm. "Brother, I say this only because our mother retains a puzzling fondness for you- be careful here." Thor looked at Loki with an expression of confusion, and Loki said firmly, "You do not want to offer any insult to Jean Beliveau. Not at a home game of the Montreal Canadiens."

Tony looked up into the stands, at the watchful crowd, and realized Loki was probably right. When Steve, who among his other superpowers had an innate ability to know how to act, stepped forward to act as spokeshero, the other Avengers let him.

"We were not told to expect such distinguished visitors tonight," M. Beliveau greeted the Avengers, in slightly accented yet perfect English.

"We apologize for the intrusion," Steve said humbly. "We were misled by… faulty intelligence."

Everyone pretended not to hear the tiny explosion of laughter, hastily muffled, that came from Loki.

"You are welcome, of course," M. Beliveau said calmly, "but it would be good to know whether you bear any… ill will toward any of our players."

"Certainly not," Steve said hastily. "This was a misunderstanding. Mr… Mr. Odinson was just in the act of escorting us from the ice."

"Splendid," M. Beliveau said, nodding toward Loki, who sketched what was nearly a bow in reply. There was no sign of mockery in the trickster's body language. Tony suddenly wondered if this was how Loki had looked, when he used to address Odin. "You are welcome to use the executives' box, if you wish to stay and watch the game. And now, if you will excuse me- " He turned in obvious dismissal, stepped forward to have a word with Helblindi and number 76, and then, apparently satisfied all was well with his subjects, stalked calmly from the ice.

Loki raised his eyebrow at the chastened Avengers, and led them to the executives' box.

~oOo~

All things considered, the evening turned out all right: the team ended up having a really nice outing, Thor and, surprisingly, Natasha enjoyed the game tremendously (the sight of a penalized Helblindi roaring defiance at the tiny, fearless referee and then meekly taking his seat in the penalty box reassuring everyone there was no need to worry about his intentions), they all had smoked meat sandwiches which were… well, indescribably delicious, frankly, and when Loki vanished at the end of the night he managed to leave without turning anyone into an amphibian or really instigating anything at all.

And that was the end of it, at least it was until the night the Stanley Cup playoffs began, when the doorbell rang at the Avengers' Mansion. Bucky, who was asleep on the rug in front of the television, scrambled to his feet and dashed toward the door, making sounds of canine joy and devotion.

Tony followed, far less eagerly, and was not surprised to find Loki on the doorstep.

He was, however, a little surprised to realize he was carrying a case of twenty-four Molson beer.

"What are you here for?" Tony demanded, not even trying to block Loki's entrance.

"I have no television in my lair," Loki announced, "and tonight the Canadiens open their series against the hated Bruins of Boston. I wish to use your device to watch the game. I have brought, as you perceive, beer. Hello, Bucky," he addressed the dog, who by now was leaning on his leg begging shamelessly to be patted.

"Why aren't you watching at the Bell Centre? Aren't you still Helblindi's agent?"

Loki shook his head. "No, the amusement palled. And the Canadiens brought back Mr. Bob Gainey as their general manager, a man of truly annoying decency and moral rectitude. It would have been like negotiating contracts with Steve Rogers. Helblindi is now a client of the agent who represents his friend and line mate, PK Subban. You may remember him? You blasted him across the ice?"

"Yeah, don't remind me," Tony muttered.

"Is my brother at home?" Loki asked now, and Tony realized he was trying very hard not to look hopeful.

Tony gave in. "Yeah, I'll get him. You remember where the TV is, right?"

"Right," Loki replied, brightening considerably. "Come, Bucky," he addressed the dog. "We will determine upon which channel the match is to be broadcast. You may not have any beer, but I have brought you some biscuits instead."

Tony rubbed his head, realized he didn't have a headache after all, and went upstairs to call Thor.


End file.
